


Blood Contract

by AcousticMalta



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BHE (Big Horny Energy), Biting, Blood Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Falling In Love, Feels, Femslash, Flirting, Happy Ending, Horniness, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrations included, Lesbian, POV Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, POV Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Partial Nudity, Romance, Vampire AU, mentions to Moira Sombra Winston Mei Tracer Ana, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 19:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17331350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcousticMalta/pseuds/AcousticMalta
Summary: ´Widowmaker must have remembered you from her past life, because the aggressiveness she displayed since her rescue would simply disappear whenever you visited her.She seemed to trust you, to some extent, which allowed you to be the first to notice she had grown fangs. Long and sharp. That day you unconsciously lifted your hand to touch her lips and stopped mid air.`





	Blood Contract

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows the canon with the exception of Widowmaker being a vampire.
> 
> The first part is written from Angela "Mercy" Ziegler's POV, and the second part, a couple of months later, from Widowmaker's POV.

[](https://ibb.co/RbjJZWB)

The year has passed by so quickly, yet it doesn't mean it has been easy. Not on you, nor anyone else. Since the successful rescue of Widowmaker and her retrieval to the Overwatch headquarters, every day has been a challenge.

You often find yourself lost in thought when it comes to her, how you both came to be where you are today. Even if Widowmaker was finally freed from Talon's abusive control, her first few weeks at the Overwatch headquarters were especially complicated. Her presence aroused unpleasant debates and endless discussions among members whether she should be under our protection or just handed to the authorities. In a way, it reminded you of the old days of Overwatch, so many years ago, memories you would rather not recall. 

In addition, the new guest refused to eat or talk at first and she used the little energy she had to fight off anyone who would try to come near her, which did little in her favor. As for you, you focused on observing, far more interested in what was going on inside the ex-Talon agent's mind. 

To say you remained impartial on this matter would be a blatant lie. She was after all the enemy with the face of an old friend, so of course her case got your attention. However, it wasn't until she was moved into the medical ward that you both finally started spending time together. It was only a matter of time since the lack of cooperation from her part at that time turned into her getting sicker and sicker with each passing day. You saw your opportunity and you immediately accepted the challenge.

You can't say you had established much contact with Widowmaker in the past aside from a few encounters on the battlefield while you were on opposite sides. Although you did know Amélie Lacroix very well. Not like you can acknowledge it out loud, not now, or ever, but you also remember having a huge crush on your co-worker's wife. 

Widowmaker must have remembered you from her past life as well, because the aggressiveness she displayed since her arrival would simply disappear whenever you visited her. Instead, she would watch you with curious eyes, and so did you. 

The change was immediate and the progress, almost unbelievable. Soon enough, you were exchanging conversations with the French woman and getting a taste of her new sense of humor. She seemed to trust you, to some extent, which allowed you to be the first to notice she had grown _fangs_. Long and sharp. That day you unconsciously lifted your hand to touch her lips and stopped mid air.

You haven't seen a case like Widowmaker's before. Though the characteristics of the medical condition she was suffering were already very rare, it had been documented enough at Overwatch through the years. What shocked you were her words, when she told you first hand that she only feeds on blood now. It isn't that hard to believe when you consider the fact that Widowmaker is Dr. O'Deorain's creation, a far worse monster. 

It didn't seem as relevant at the moment, but she also revealed to you that AB+ was her favorite blood type to drink with a knowing smirk on her lips. How did Widowmaker happen to know your blood type still remains a mystery to you. 

A soft knock interrupts your thoughts and brings you back to reality. Looking over your shoulder you find Widowmaker leaning against the door frame of your office, eyes sharp but an otherwise neutral expression. It would freeze anyone else's blood in an instant, but not yours. You know her well enough to recognize she is just inspecting the place.

The good news is that not only had Widowmaker's health improved with the change of diet, but her reputation over the last year had as well. Little by little, she has earned the trust of some of the most open-minded members, which allowed her to start moving around great part of the Overwatch facilities without any restrictions. Just an ankle monitor to be worn at all times seems sufficient to the Overwatch board nowadays. To tell the truth, you can't be more pleased with this measure (the alternative being having her locked in a cell), and Widowmaker seems to be enjoying her partial freedom as well. You could even say she looks thankful, in her own way. Following your advice, she is behaving and staying out of trouble, and in return, she doesn't look like a hostage anymore but more of a refugee. Even an assistant for the organization in some occasions, though not without receiving complaints from the most skeptical members.

You turn around your chair to face her with a soft smile on your lips, placing your reading glasses on your desk.

"Is it about that time?" you ask, knowing perfectly well the meaning of her visit and what's to come next.

Widowmaker closes the door behind her and you get up. Not too rushed nor too slow, but you don't waste any time as soon as it's just the two of you in the room. You start by taking off your white coat, your heels and then your navy blue office skirt. 

No matter how many times you have done this, your heart always starts to race and your cheeks turn red under Widowmaker's gaze, whose eyes never miss the view.

You are glad the white panties you are wearing today are appropriate for the occasion. Since starting this experiment with Widowmaker you have begun worrying about your underwear (as if for a lover, though not quite). You spend some time buying new undergarments online now and then, self-conscious now of the too comfortable but old panties that needed to be retired for good. 

The other woman lifts an eyebrow with a hint of a smile on her lips as she slowly walks in your direction. "Am I interrupting?"

"No," you shake your head, still unable to look up to meet her eyes. "I was wondering when would you come, actually," freed from your bottom down, now wearing nothing but your underwear and a white shirt, you try to relax as you sit back in your chair. The taller woman stands before you and you suddenly feel so small.

A brief silence fills the room, and then Widowmaker is moving. You will never get used to the view of the French woman kneeling before you, leaning closer as you part your legs in invitation. All of this was your idea, after all. Even if the synthetic blood bags you had been providing her were enough to keep her alive, your curiosity pushed you to the extent of suggesting researching if fresh blood could help her current state. Widowmaker must have given this idea as much thought as you did back then. When you volunteered, she herself had suggestions of her own. 

Her image was already bad enough to alarm Overwatch agents by telling them she was now feeding on human blood. And so, conditions were put in place. Number one: you would both keep this experiment a secret. Condition number two: in order to fulfill number one, she wouldn't leave any bite marks on your neck or wrists. You had considered yourself professional enough to propose then feeding from your femoral veins, located in your inner thighs. You failed miserably, however, when you turned bright red as she gave you an amused look. You still tell yourself this is just a question of practicality.

Nevertheless, and regardless of the awkwardness of the first time, you find yourselves in this situation once again. You grip the armrests at your sides as your heartbeat speeds up even more if possible. It doesn't help to calm your nerves that you cannot stop thinking about how loud your heart is beating and how flushed your face must be for Widowmaker not to notice. 

Her cold skin finally touches yours and you hold your breath in anticipation. She always places her lips on your skin first. One could get the impression that she is kissing your thigh (today it's the left one), but it would probably be more accurate to think she is just looking for your femoral vein. Or maybe... she is just giving you a minute to get used to her cold touch. When Widowmaker looks up, lips still locked on your skin, you nod for her to start. 

The first bite always gets you. You close your eyes and grind your teeth in pain, breathing through your nose. It's not half as bad after that initial moment, though. It's not like this requires much from your part either. You slowly open your eyes to discover her watching you and your first reaction is to avert your eyes immediately. Instead, you make your best effort to focus on something else, anything else. But neither the most fascinating medical report or the sweetest Swiss chocolate could ever distract you from the feeling of Widowmaker drinking from you. Luckily, when you lower your eyes once again, her eyes are closed as your patient is busy feeding herself. 

This allows you a moment to watch her closely. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows, her long eyelashes, her pointy nose,... and her wanting mouth. You feel yourself drifting away in thought, completely fascinated by the view. Though you don't have any other experience to compare to, you have the sense that Widowmaker is a gentle bitter. Not like you can acknowledge it out loud, not now, or ever, but considering the dangerous position you are in, you nevertheless feel... _empowered_. And it's an intoxicating feeling. You bite your lower lip, feeling a tingling sensation in your hands. If only you could stretch your hand.

You fear you are getting addicted to this kind of excitement. You fear Widowmaker will turn you mad and―

Your thigh unconsciously flinches for a split second and your mind stops wandering in an instant. The French woman makes eye contact with you before she stops drinking, as she reads that sign as a request for her to stop. 

"Oh, are you done?" you ask, clearing your throat as you watch her lick the blood off her lips. You have definitely disturbed her.

She also takes a moment to lick the wound slowly, tongue flat against your skin before replying. It sends a shiver down your spine and heat instantly takes over your body. "Yes. This will do." You are used to Widowmaker's short and teasing replies by now, or to not receive any reply at all.

And just like that it's over. The other woman rises to her feet in one fluid motion and starts to walk away, impassive. In the meantime, you sit up, turning quickly to the drawers of your desk to retrieve two band-aids. You look up quickly as you are placing them on the small but bleeding wounds, as if Widowmaker would disappear if she were out of your sight for more than two seconds, and this time she is the first to speak. "I will get you a coffee. And something to eat."

"Ah, that's very kind, but you don't have to b―"

"I do," she interrupts you. Before leaving through your office door, she makes sure to look back at you and mockingly add: "Remember that you are now eating for two."

And as easily as that she makes you blush. You lower your head, hiding your laugh. When you glance up through your bangs she is giving you a broad smile, fangs showing.

You do appreciate the moment of privacy you get when she closes the door after her. Your face still feels hot and a smile still lingers on your lips as you pick up the skirt you tidily left on your desk before.

♡

You surprise yourself dozing off more and more often as time passes since your last meal, a clear sign that your body is trying to save energy. Drowsiness, general discomfort, fatigue,... you are starting to experience all the symptoms.

And although you are confident that you could easily demand one of those artificial blood bags at any hour, you still abstain yourself from doing so. In reality, you are never pushed to feed yourself, probably due to the discomfort the discovery of your diet has caused among the Overwatch agents sharing the same space as you. You prefer it that way. The truth is that you have developed a taste for the pretty little doctor and you are willing to politely wait however long it takes to feed from her. 

While Angela is worried about awakening possible scandals (since not all the details of your medical condition are public knowledge), you are more interested in keeping it secret for your own good. It would be a shame to end this relationship (if you could call it that) you both have slowly built over time. The doctor, in particular, has invested a lot of effort to make this work. It's _lovely_. 

Overwatch's Gibraltar headquarters may make a decent refuge from both Talon and justice authorities, but in all honestly, it's the doctor that keeps you here. The only thing stopping you from fleeing. You don't even fight the strange familiarity that pulls you two together anymore. For the first time since you were reborn, you are curious to see how things will turn out in the future.

Looking up from your room window you can see the sunset light bathing the different buildings of the headquarters, but most importantly, the window of Angela's office whose light is still on despite being almost 7 in the afternoon. Most members have already retired for the evening about an one hour ago or so, but the doctor's work schedule knows no limits. Actually, it seems like a good time to pay the medical ward the visit you have long waited for.

You don't move immediately however, for a long second you stare at her window. Regardless of not seeing any sign of life you certainly know from experience that you will find her there, most likely sitting at her desk, reading glasses on, ankles crossed... and papers all over the place. Distracted, you run a hand over the blanket on your bed, where you are resting. Your room might be small and impersonal, but it's still much cozier than the space you used to share at Talon's. Out of nowhere, memories of the time you spent co-living with Sombra among other members flash before you, just for an instant. They make your heart heavy (somehow) but you are still unable to process the feeling.

Instead of allowing yourself to get lost again in thought, you choose to get up and approach the small desk by your window, where you find a headband you use to effortlessly tie your hair up in a ponytail, just as usual. There lay several other objects you have been collecting, or _borrowing_ , over this year at Overwatch's as well: six pens you have hoarded from every time Winston has lent you one. One hairpin Mei gifted you when you were about to collect one yourself (you suspect she was aware of your intentions). One of Tracer's socks, only one, just to annoy her. And this popular lesbian erotica novel you _borrowed_ from Angela without her knowledge. Two months have passed since you finished reading it and you should definitely give it back.

Although you first laughed, you continued reading and eventually you actually found yourself totally immersed in this fantasy novel. Now you understand why Angela had it hidden around her office, though not as well hidden as she thought. Of course, Angela hasn't ever inquired about the location of her book, not like she really can.

Nonetheless, you turn around empty-handed and exit your room. The corridors are quiet as you head to the medical ward. The only noise is a distant sound of chatter, which you gladly walk in the opposite direction of. 

You don't really get along with most of the Overwatch members, but you have come to tolerate some of them over time. When you first arrived, your presence made everybody uncomfortable at best, but now it's fun receiving all kinds of reactions, even though your attitude hasn't really changed that much. Of course, there are people that tried harder than others to get along with you, including Angela, who probably tried the hardest. 

It's not like you really wait for permission after you knock on her door. You enter the room to discover the doctor reaching for some folder crushed under a mountain of papers resting on her desk. She immediately looks back and smiles, greeting you and stopping mid-action:  
"Widowmaker," she turns around to face you. "I think I might know the motive of your visit." 

"Were you expecting me?" 

"Actually, yes. I would like you to feed regularly, for the good of the experiment, of course." 

Angela can be so stiff when she wants. Too much of a professional. "Would it kill you to say you missed me?" But you definitely know how to tease her. She smiles and averts her eyes, taking off her reading glasses and standing up from her chair, yet not replying to your question. 

The situation feels vaguely different this time. You feel different. Slowly, you turn back to the door to lock it from inside, securing the room. 

Your head somehow is somewhere else today. You want to speak to her, but most importantly, you want her to pay attention to you. Maybe that's why you are feeling so talkative, because the sooner this starts, the sooner it's over.

She from her part doesn't lose any time. She starts by standing up and taking off her lab coat, just as usual. It has become kind of a ritual, a ritual which you interrupt by clearing your throat as you casually approach her, arms crossed.

"So. You will be leaving soon on a mission."

"That's classified information," she says, stopping her undressing to look up to you disapprovingly.

"It would be... If Overwatch actually used some code for classified information. I just overheard it." 

"I guess there is no point in hiding anything, then," she sighs, fumbling with the zipper on the side of her skirt as she continues undressing. You knew from the beginning that the new organization of Overwatch was kind of messy, but you didn't expect such chaos. "Ana would not like to know you _overheard_ that."

"Ana is actually _behaving_ these days." You say mockingly with a grin, repeating the word she used so long ago when she asked for more cooperation from your part. But Angela is not looking at you, she is still fighting with the zipper just the sole sight immediately exasperates you. "Let me," you say as you come closer, putting your hands over hers and taking over the task. It does not go down as smoothly as you would have liked to, but you are successful regardless as she thanks you and her face starts turning red.

She clears her throat, finishes by taking off her thin black stockings and sits back without meeting your eyes, probably too aware of the satisfaction her clumsiness produced on you. Her underwear is pale purple today, just like your skin color, so very coincidentally it makes you raise an eyebrow. Meanwhile, she waits for you from her seat. You love keeping her waiting. When you keep her waiting she always starts talking, revealing her true self.

"It should only take a couple of days, don't worry." She might have sounded a little cheeky, but you can see through her when she crosses her legs, growing impatient and awkward due to her lack of clothes. You are not given the chance to answer back, instead, she continues talking: "I have already prepared a big supply of artificial blood. Just in case of... emergency." You can't disapprove of it. Given the dangerous nature of her profession as a combat medic, preparing an emergency reserve is probably for the best. 

And so, you nod in agreement and finally start walking in her direction to shorten the distance with the doctor before kneeling in front of her.

"I wouldn't want to lose... all the progress made," you say with flat voice, looking now at her legs until she uncross them, allowing you to come closer. 

_Angela, you're always so eager_. You try your hardest to restrain a smile.

"I wouldn't want that either," she replies, sincere.

"Besides, you taste so much better". A wicked smile appears on your lips to which surprisingly Angela smiles back. "Do I?", she asks you, and you would dare to say she sounds pleased at your statement. "Yes. You do." You place a hand over her knee and add the slightest amount of pressure for her to notice and part her legs wider. 

There are several healed biting marks on both of her inner thighs from past times you have fed from her, and the sight delights you. You are pretty sure the doctor does not have any lover by now. How could she let you bite her in such an intimate place and keep this exchange a secret between you two otherwise? You are also pretty sure that the fact that Angela is single is not due to lack of charm, but most likely because she is always locked inside her office, if not somewhere outside saving the world. Always too focused on her work.

You take the shift of her legs as an invitation to finally lean towards her right thigh and press your lips against her skin. As usual, it's so damn hot. Taking a couple of seconds, just listening to the pounding sound of her pulse, you finally sink your fangs into her thigh after she briefly nods.

Blood immediately rushes to your mouth as you suck moderately, as gently as you can. When you look up, Angela has one of her hands over her mouth and her eyes closed, her eyebrows just slightly frowned. She eventually relaxes short after (as you have always noticed), when the shock of the bite is gone and the pain mitigates.

You observe her from your position, too distracted by the way her slender, delicate fingers brush her lips. In the spur of the moment, she lets out the smallest sigh which immediately makes your stomach twitch with pleasure, an unusual sensation which catches you completely off guard. 

What was that? Giving in to the moment, you too now decide to close your eyes, trying to focus on the warm blood flowing down your throat. But it's definitely not a sound easy to forget, and you would give anything to hear it again. Instinctively, you add more pressure to your bite, drinking with less care to which she responds with a lower but longer sigh. You could almost say she sounds content somehow.

"Widow...," you are rewarded again with another sigh, and the echo of her voice fills your ears. 

Impulses take over you as she encourages you with low humming and a hand that runs shy but gently over your hair.

She's driving you insane. You suck hard as you let your imagination free, thinking about how bad you want to stop sinking your fangs on her skin just to trail kisses higher and higher up to her core, thinking about how would it be to have a real taste of her. _Oh_ , the sweet noises she would make for you.

Even deep in your fantasies, you suddenly open your eyes as a bad feeling wins over your heat. It is immediately confirmed when you glance up to Angela's face. She looks pale, very pale. Her hand is again weakly covering her mouth and her eyes remain closed, apparently relaxed. The sight immediately makes you freeze, just to free her thigh a second later. Blood drips from your lips and also from her fresh mark down to the floor. 

But you don't pay much attention to the stain extending over the surface, instead you stand up quickly, eyes still locked on her. What should you do? _What have you done?_ Few things in life can make you now panic, and you have just discovered that seeing Angela in danger is one of them. You despise that acknowledgement. It makes you feel weak, vulnerable, _human_.

You do not have much time to give it further thought, though. Your hands twitch just before you start by picking up the doctor from her chair to move her to the examination bed across her office. 

The good news is that even if she can barely cooperate, she does react to the shift by slowly and weakly putting an arm around your shoulder. She says nothing but opens her eyes, unfocused at first, as you ease her on the bed.

Maybe it's the adrenaline, or your renewed energies thanks to the fresh blood, but once she is secure there you move faster than ever back to her desk, violently opening the drawers you until you find any medical supplies you can use.

"t's ok, Widowmaker...", she says, but you are not really listening to her.

You do not take the band aids you have seen her use on herself before in most of your encounters, they might not be sufficient today. In their place you take gauze and medical tape and you run back to the bed. You are definitely not as virtuous as Angela when it comes to assistance but you manage to wrap the gauze around her thigh, which works well enough. Only then you feel a weight lifted off of your shoulders. 

Your facial expression might have remained neutral on the outside, but you don't remember feeling this upset in a very long time. When your eyes meet Angela's, even in her state, she does seem to notice the change in you. 

While you were busy in your task, she has raised to rest on her elbows, making you have to fight the urge to violently push her back to a fully lying position. Wisely enough, you place a hand on the back of her neck to help her lie down instead.

Eyes locked on each other in complete silence, you are sure the doctor would have blushed if it wasn't for the blood loss. Unnecessary blood loss you caused. The feeling of guilt annoys you to no end. It's definitely a new and unwelcomed sensation in your system.

You bring a chair closer to the examination bed and you look down at her, observing her in silence. Despite having her lying down half dressed before you, there is no longer any trail of desire inside you. Seeing her in such state makes your heart heavy in a way you again don't fully understand or know how to deal with.

She eventually closes her eyes, resting, as she is not back to herself just yet. Her lips are slightly open as she breaths slowly, and a hand reaches closer to her own face to move her bangs aside. 

Your mediocre first-aid should be enough, you think, but the feeling of uneasiness continues to repulse you. Not able to do anything about your irresponsible actions, you clench your fists so hard your knuckles turn white.

"Hey. It's ok, I'm ok," she eventually repeats after a long couple of minutes, her blue eyes looking both at you and through you. You breathe slowly through your nose trying to relax yourself and let your hands go, but it doesn't immediately help ease the tension built inside of you.

Without any warning and still in your seat, you lean closer to hide your face in the space between her shoulder and neck. Her scent is so strong. Neutral, sterilized, like all the medical supplies you can find in this room, yet surprisingly comforting. 

She moves her head slightly, probably startled, but says or does nothing. Instead, she makes herself comfortable by resting her cheek on top of your head. Even after almost sucking her dry, you can hear the loud sound of her heart and her slow but deep breaths, the only sounds that manage to make you calm. As your mind drifts off, you wonder how would it be to someday feed from Angela's neck...

"I'm sorry," you eventually say. Your voice sounds muffled since you are still hiding your face in her neck. 

She replies by caressing your hair first, accepting your short apology.

"It's not like I'm bleeding out to death, you know. I still have so much to give". You can't really confirm from your position, but you think you can feel her smile. That is true, and not only referring to her blood. 

You don't really reply, instead, you straighten on your seat and look at her intensely, yet with a neutral expression.

"Would you let me cook dinner for you?" you ask, nerves floating inside of you in the most human possible way, a way you had long forgotten. Making an official apology seems appropriate, although there aren't many options since you are stuck inside the Overwatch headquarters for now. She looks back at you a little confused by how her eyebrows twitch just for a split second, but nods. "Yes, sure". To your relief, she's starting to look better. 

"Then it's a date," you add with a small grin. If it weren't because of her condition, you know red color would have reached her cheeks and ears. Rather, she matches your expression with a pleased smile.

[ ](https://ibb.co/2FdgP6R)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, I hope you enjoyed the reading!
> 
> Biiig thanks to everybody who encouraged me to post my first fanfic on Ao3! And also BIG thanks to my beta readers @sxrgxnt, @/Lahkesis21, @/GoldenStarry and @/IlanaNight13 for their amazing support.
> 
> I also drew both pics you see here. I'm @AcousticMalta on Twitter/Tumblr/Instagram, in case you wanna see more!
> 
> I'd love to read your thoughts in the comment section. ♡


End file.
